


A Jaunt Or Two

by sonicsora



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Chance Meetings, Dating, Didn't Know They Were Dating, First Meetings, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Humor, M/M, Meet-Cute, accidentally dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-31 02:31:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21050810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonicsora/pseuds/sonicsora
Summary: They meet by happenstance twice over, only to end up quite woven into one anothers lives. It's all quite accidental, but sticks.Crowley realizes a bit belated he's quite attached to this man who freely uses the wordjauntand wears cream-colored suits.





	A Jaunt Or Two

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MatchstickDhole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatchstickDhole/gifts).

> Written on request for the ever lovely Amanda! 
> 
> and yes, I had to have god narrate for a second, because for the life of me, that is a funny thought.

“It’s all a bit cliche, isn’t it-?” He questions aloud to himself in front of his mirror as he leans across the sink to eye himself. He runs a hand through his hair, smoothing it back in place as he contemplates what his life has become. All it takes is a swipe of hair gel in his palm to get things situated in the way he likes. 

He rinses his hands under the faucet drying it off with a towel as he takes in his styled hair in the mirror. He winks at himself with a flash of a grin. 

“Love, real, over talked topic.” He continues idly to himself, adjusting the collar of his jacket ever so casually. He has to be sure it looks right. It _needed_ to look right, casual, but not overdone or showy. A casual air of confidence was always key. He picks his sunglasses from the rim of the sink, settling them into place as he chuckles a little to himself. 

“Overdone, played out, ridiculous even. Who even falls in love anymore?” He drawls back at his reflection. “Only saps and chumps.” 

He turns away from his bathroom mirror, dusting his hands along the front of his jeans as he walks into the rest of his flat. His gaze lands almost immediately on a framed picture of Aziraphale and himself. It’s a simple enough picture, a shaky selfie with the two crowded into frame. Crowley finds himself drawn over to it, picking up the picture. He runs his thumb across the glass. 

The way even looking at a picture of the other man makes him feel, warrants a pause for a moment. A very long contemplative moment. Crowley may be a man of indulgences and temptations, but, he’s aware enough of his feelings to actually think about. He had gone from an idle fancy of Aziraphale to a considerably more… intense kind of fancy. One where you would look a chap in the eyes and go, ‘Care for a lifelong commitment paired with a particularly nice white picket fence?’

“Ah, suppose I’m a sap then.” He eyes the picture a moment longer before setting it back on the side table. Some part of him has always known to some extent, but it’s quite a different sort of thing to actually consider. 

“Love, real… overrated.” He mumbled to himself half defensively before moving to grab his water spritzer from his desk. He has his plants to terrorize for a good hour, then, then he’ll think about this a bit more. He didn't feel properly equipped for any of this. They certainly weren't... _dating_ or anything. Nothing of the sort. 

\---

The chime over the door pulls Aziraphale’s attention from sorting through books around the register. Though it all has gotten quite a bit out of hand when he realizes he can’t completely see over the stacks any longer. He might have miscalculated his inventory to some degree. Not that more books than expected was a bad thing. 

“Good day, welcome-” He offers cheerily, only vaguely able to peek over the stacks of books he had let grow a little out of control around him. He waves a hand, his fingers wiggling over the tallest of books. “Do give me a minute won’t you? I think I’ve gotten a bit lost in this maze of my own creation!” 

“I’d joke about an avalanche, but, I feel like you going out by your own books would be too much of a pleasure.” 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale perks up further at the sound of the other man’s voice, managing to scoot his way around a stack on the floor that had built upwards without sending it toppling. He manages to get out and away from the register to smile back at the other man. “You’re here early!”

“Early worm and all that.” The lanky man grunts back casually, jamming his hands into his pocket. He manages a casual lean as he tilts his head back in Aziraphale’s direction. “Didn’t think it’d be all that busy this early on.” 

“It can be, depending, really, you never know who will come in to look over fine literature such as this!” He spreads his arms wide nearly colliding with another stack he had forgotten about. 

“Angel, the day you _happily_ sell a book, is the day I start worrying about whether you’ve taken a blow to the head.” Aziraphale can’t see the eye roll behind the sunglasses, but he can hear it in the other man’s voice. The small smile tugging at the corner of his lips betrayed his mood quite clearly leaving Aziraphale smiling brightly back at him. 

“Are we still on for crepes?” He only turns away to eye the clock against the back wall, glad to see the shop he quite liked would be open already. They wouldn’t have to wait particularly long if they walked there. The crepes were always freshly made in front of the customer. It was a delight, really. 

Crowley grunts, rolling his shoulders in an over casual shrug. “Unless you want something else?” 

“I’ve been craving strawberry crepes all week, I must admit.” He adjusts his tie idly as he steals another look at the clock. “Well, it is early, like you said, and there isn’t anyone present in the store…” 

Crowley gives a very amused sound at that, “Oh, so you’d like to get them now then-?” 

“If it isn’t a bother of course-” It’s all just preamble for the inevitability of things. Both of them know this by now so Crowley cuts him off with a wave of his hand. 

“Angel, let’s go. Be sure we get the fresh strawberries, wouldn’t want to wait too long and get stale ones.” His tone is seemingly uncaring and dismissive, Aziraphale can read the other man quite well. He cares a bit more than he’ll ever let on, and it’s all charming in its own way. 

“Quite, wouldn’t want to get any stale ones, of course.” He agrees readily. His smile only widens a little further as he does a quick peek around the shop to be sure there were no stray customers. 

Crowley just hangs by the front door to the sop, flipping the closed sign on the door without a word. His hands are still jammed in his pockets and he’s fallen into his usual slouch. “Ready-?” He questions with an arch of his brows. 

“Very much so.” Aziraphale answers breezily as he walks back over to where the other man is waiting by the entrance. He loops his arm with the other man’s own, it’s a bit personable, but he quite likes seeing the shade of red Crowley turns at the contact. “Shall we take a nice walk there? Build up an appetite?” 

The taller man chokes on his words for a moment, but recovers in an attempt to be smooth. It is incredibly transparent, but Aziraphale doesn’t say a word about it. “Might as well.” 

“_Wonderful_!” He squeezes the other man’s arm as he reaches out to push the door open, leading them out onto the crowded streets. He only turns to lock the door behind them as Crowley just gingerly holds onto his arm like he’s never made physical contact with another person before. 

There is always something enjoyable about making Crowley sweat a little. The two take a casual stroll down the sidewalk, always just able to avoid a collision with other pedestrians as they go. 

Aziraphale catches Crowley smiling at him once or twice as they walk. “I suppose we could call this a _date_, couldn’t we-?” Aziraphale questions easily. His smile widens at the “hgNk.” That chokes out of Crowley. 

\---

But let's back backtrack a bit shall we? Love doesn’t just appear out of nowhere generally, it has to build and grow. Like all things, it has a beginning. We’ve merely seen the middle. A particularly embarrassing middle of pining. 

It started all a _bit_ accidentally one day. A mere happenstance, a chance meeting, a brush of two lives that would eventually mingle as one. 

It all started with a date at a pub, if one could call it a date. Crowley most certainly would not. He did not remember her name (Rebecca? Tully? Candace?) just her very boorish way of speaking, intense enjoyment of glitter, and the strong scent of cheap perfume that rolled off of her in waves. She looked like she had a particularly boisterous time at a Claire’s. She practically leaked glitter in a way that Crowley would normally find amusing if he wasn’t within range. A little chaos wasn’t a terrible thing, unless it directly affected him than it was a real bother. 

In theory, Rebectullyance was a nice enough woman, but not someone Crowley was looking for in a date. Then again, he hadn’t been looking for a date, his coworkers had a terrible sense of humor (almost hellish one could say) and he was standing at the bar nursing a drink after they had made hasty introductions and hustled away. He was left to finish his beer in heavy conversation, truly a tragedy. 

Rebectullyance had the enviable ability to talk without needing air between words, so there was not quite a lot of room to interject. Crowley did have the chance to enjoy his beer, which was at least a suitable distraction. His gaze drifted from under his sunglasses around the pub, drifting across both familiar and unfamiliar faces. 

His eyes land on a man in a cream-colored suit who had taken an awkward seat at a table nearest one of the large windows. His elbow settled against the smooth tabletop, gaze drawn to the window behind him. 

It was odd, really, amusingly so when the two met eyes by accident. The blonde man blinked in surprise, offering a slight uncertain wave. He had quite stunning blue eyes. 

Crowley found himself returning the gesture before he could really stop himself. He stares at his hand as if it is the first time he’s ever realized he had such an appendage. 

Rebectullyance said something, maybe something ranging from, “Is that a friend of yours?” or “Are you well?” possibly even, “Who are you waving at you incompetent boob?” 

Not that it mattered in the moment. Crowley had come to a conclusion, and it was hard for him not to settle on just doing as he pleased once he decided on a course of action. One could collectively call him a trainwreck unfolding slowly before a small countryside village where one cannot actively look away. 

Crowley just picks up his drink, “Seems the friend I was waiting for is here, nice talking to you…” He coughs a bit to cover the lack of remembrance of her name before pushing away from the bar to drift through the crowd. He can hear Rebectullyance call out “Crawly!” but he is a slippery sort and ends up at the table with the blonde man. He pulls back a stool and sits down like he’s always belonged there. 

The blonde man’s lips quirk into a bemused kind of smile, brows knitting together. “Blind date?” 

“Suppose, I was blindsided by it.” Crowley answers casually with a tilt of his head, “Out for a drink?” 

“Technically a blind date, never did show up.” The blonde man answers with a shrug, less looking like a jilted lover and more someone who wanted to be at home reading a book. “Gabriel said it would be good for me to get out.” 

“Dunno who he is, but I hate him already.” Crowley offers amiably, “Let's seethe together.” 

“Well, I’m- not quite the seething sort.” The plump man answers with a surprised blink, he brings his drink to his lips taking a sip. 

Crowley flashes his teeth in a playful smile. “Angel, give it some time. We all have a bit of seething under our skin.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He states, his drink going halfway from his mouth before he stops as his gaze drifts away from Crowley. He tips his glass in the direction Crowley had come from. “She certainly looks like she’s seething.” 

Crowley’s subtly as he can glances whence he came, Rebectullyance did look perturbed. “hgngk.” Is his intelligent response before he polishes off the rest of his drink. “Care to run off into the night with me?” 

“Well, that is a bit forward.” The blonde man starts, finally looking at Crowley again. “But, I suppose it would be the best thing to do, wouldn’t it?” 

“Unless you want to be covered in glitter and cocktails, yes.” Crowley digs through his pockets, slapping a tip on the table after he locates his wallet. He’s left a bit of trouble in his wake, so might as well tip decently. A little hell on his heels always means a larger tip for the wait staff who had to deal with clean up. 

“There is nothing wrong with a good cocktail you know.” The blonde man states even as he slides off of the stool he’s been perched upon to join Crowley. 

“Regardless of good or bad, I know a pitching arm on someone who throws drinks regularly when I see one.” He states in turn, quickly laying his hands flat on the other man’s back pushing him along through the crowd. They make it outside of the pub onto the sidewalk with only mild jostling and apologies from the blonde man. The sky is already growing dark and the air is a crisp cold contrast to the stale muggy air of the pub.

“Care for a walk to sober up?” The blonde man asks before pausing, a realization dawning on his features. “Oh, gracious, my apologies, I should have introduced myself sooner, I’m Aziraphale.” 

Crowley’s brows scrunch together as he eyes the plump man. “Your parents must have wanted you to suffer in school. Must’ve been real trouble to spell for a long time.” 

“They were- just very overzealous I suppose.” Aziraphale answers with an uncertain kind of shrug. “They also had very biblical names. A bit of a family trend.” 

Crowley flaps a hand in a casual dismissive gesture, shifting gears topic wise. “A walk sounds more than fine, certainly can’t drive like this.” Aziraphale chuckles somewhat at that, “Good man, let us- jaunt!” 

Crowley just gives the plump man a baffled look, but walks with him readily down the sidewalk. “_Jaunt_?” 

“Oh, you have to know the word, jaunt!” Aziraphale answers brightly back, launching into a dictionary level of explanation with his own flourish. The two disappear around the bend together quite a bit tipsy and far from well mannered. 

The two hadn’t exchanged numbers by the end of the evening by the time Crowley, considerably sobered up from wandering around with the mysterious Aziraphale walked back to his bentley. His mind drifted briefly back to the blonde man as he unlocked his car sliding into the driver's seat of his car, but it didn’t linger as the familiar sound of Queen coming on over his car stereo was a suitable distraction. 

Life moved on, as it always did. Aziraphale was just another face Crowley assumed he would forget given a few days. Life moved on. 

Until it quite suddenly didn’t. 

Crowley paused, suddenly feeling eyes on his back as he peered over his shoulder to eye his surroundings. The park was quiet in the afternoon in the mid-week, which made it the perfect time to agitate the local wildlife. 

It was also apparently where Crowley found himself encountering the blonde man again. Aziraphale for his part had that same glazed desperation the redhead felt he had worn on his own face the night they met. Aziraphale was seated on a bench, his expression pinched and edging on pained as the man next to him babbled on about something. Crowley would wager something inane from the way the other man looked. Aziraphale’s gaze kept landing on Crowley in the least subtle manner known to mankind. 

“Ah, hell.” He sighs, shaking out a handful of dried peas, bread and corn menacingly at the ducks. “You’ll pay for your crimes later, ducks. Mark my words.” 

Predictably, the ducks were not aware of any current crimes they had committed. There were numerous crimes they had committed, but ducks are not known for their capacity to learn from their mistakes or atone for crimes. It was simply not in their nature. 

He rolls the paper bag in hand shut, taking a sharp turn to casually make his way over to the bench the blonde man seemed trapped upon. The little marked pathways didn’t perfectly lead to the bench, but Crowley wasn’t one for rules unless it suited him. He stepped onto the grass, weaving around fellow hooligans who lay out in the grass and the occasional duck he had yet to properly menace until he found his way to where the blonde man was seated. 

He casually leaned against the bench, invading the two men’s personal space as he spoke. “You.” He points at Aziraphale nearly poking him in the nose in the process. “You were supposed to help me feed the ducks.” The man in the grey suit blinked leaning back in confusion, whilst relief flickered across Aziraphale’s features for a scant moment. 

“Ah- yes, yes-” Aziraphale was quick to agree, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. "Seems I've forgotten!" 

“And you-” Crowley turns to the other man, eyeing the man with a cool disinterest. “You have something on your shirt.” He mimes vaguely enough the man’s gaze dropped to his shirt brushing his hands along it anxiously. 

Crowley flicks his gaze back to Aziraphale, “Are you coming, or am I to horrify the local wildlife myself?” He arches his brows imploringly, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose marginally. 

“Well, horrify is a strong word-” Aziraphale starts brightly as he rises from the bench, clasping his hands together. “But I did promise to feed the ducks with you. I’m so terribly sorry, Gabriel, it seems I lost track of time! Quite silly of me.”

“It’s fine, you- have fun.” The man was now very distracted with trying to find the mysterious stain. Aziraphale did not hesitate to follow after Crowley. The two walk across the grass together, Aziraphale looking more and more relieved the further they got away from Gabriel. 

“Do you really menace animals in this park?” 

“Mostly ducks.” Crowley shrugs casually, shaking the bag in his grasp a little ominously. Aziraphale just blinked uncertainly, “...Why ducks?” 

Crowley snorted, “They know what they’ve done. Bastards.” He waves his hand airily dismissing the topic. “If we’re going to keep meeting like this, we ought to exchange numbers, don’t you think? Bail each other out more often.” 

The blonde man brightened easily at the suggestion, “Oh, yes! That would be delightful!”


End file.
